Poem: Fell On Blank Days

It’s not with sorrow that we greet the days
When nothing seems to happen.
It’s more with a wish that we could know
That which will make us long for these crushing calms.

The days meted out in doctors’ waiting rooms while
TV chatters on: These are the true measures of love.
The most ardent lover is more done-in by
Boredom than by passionate strife and faithless contempt.

Limitless frustration as we stare into the abyss,
Fearing nothing can or should be done.
The infinite value of the faithful watcher:
He who could watch for one full hour would overjoy the Lord.

Related

Author of the new novel "Eye of the Diamond-T" available on Amazon in print/Kindle and wherever fine ebooks are sold. Recovering microserf. Motorcyclist, musician, promoter and mini-sensation. More info at www.diamondtbook.com